Page 71 of The Heart’s Charge

Once they were about a dozen yards away from the house, she leaned her face close to his and murmured two small words. “Tell me.”

No ducking or dodging that bullet.

Oddly enough, he wanted to tell her. Which made no sense. Doubts and secrets lived in the depths, not in the light. He’d never spoken them aloud to anyone, not even Matt. Warriors carried their own burdens. And a warrior with black skin? Well, he hid his weaknesses even deeper, guarding them zealously, lest they be uncovered and used as ammunition against him.

So why were those same secrets scrambling up his throat and beating on the back of his teeth to be let out?

Jonah glanced down at Eliza’s hand resting on his arm and felt the padlock inside him click open. Why not expose the worst of himself and test her reaction? If she pulled away, he’d know not to waste time pursuing what would never be his.

And if she didn’t pull away?

He cleared his throat, not quite ready to ponder all the ramifications of that particular outcome.

Keeping his gaze trained on the packed earth in front of him as they walked the perimeter of the yard toward the barn, Jonah turned the key in the lock and let the words loose.

“Before I met up with Captain Hanger,” he said, “I was assigned to the 10th Cavalry. My skill with a rifle moved me up through the ranks and landed me a position as sharpshooter. In three years, I earned a reputation as one of the best marksmen in the Army.”

“I find that easy to believe.” He heard the smile in her voice, but he didn’t welcome it. Not when she didn’t understand the price that came with the position.

“Snipers wage war . . . differently than other troopers.”

How to explain? He blew out a breath as they reached the paddock. Pulling his arm away from hers, he moved to the fence and braced his back against the nearest post. He gazed into the sky and counted two stars near the moon, peeking through the still-early twilight to wink at him. Encouragement or mockery? Jonah thumped his heel against the fencepost at his back, feeling more apprehensive than he ever had fighting Apache with the 10th.

Eliza came alongside and leaned against the rails a foot or so to his left. Close enough that he could feel her nearness while remaining out of his direct line of sight. Supportive but not demanding.

“We plot our positions ahead of time. Lie in wait. Hide ourselves from our enemies instead of facin’ them on the field of battle. We shoot from cover while our brothers fight in the open.” Jonah’s attention wandered to the barn where he’d set up a nest in the loft, exactly as he’d been trained to do. High ground. Line of sight. Protective cover. Everything he needed to stave off an attack, to eliminate the enemy before they could eliminate those he was charged to protect.

“I took pride in my skill, welcomed the praise of the officers who depended on my rifle to give us the advantage in battle. But takin’ lives changes a man, hardens him, even when those lives are taken to preserve others.” Jonah stared across the darkening yard. “Hand-to-hand combat is kill-or-be-killed. It’s a level playing field. Honorable. Sharpshooting? It’s all about stealth and distance. We’re a necessary evil.”

“You are not evil, Jonah.”

He shrugged. “Maybe not. But what I do ain’t exactly ethical neither. I think it messed me up . . . inside. Right and wrong blurred. God had made me good at somethin’ that left me feeling like a murderer. So I turned everything off. Guilt, pride, fear. I shut it all down. Ceased being a man and became a weapon. Followed orders. Did the jobs I was called to do. Took enemy lives and protected my brothers. Until Wounded Knee.”

A shiver ran through him as the horrors of that day replayed in his memory. So many dead. Warriors. Women. Children. And he’d played a part in the killing. Maybe not of the women and children, but the blood that stained the snow that day also stained his conscience.

His hand trembled as he rubbed it down his face. “It was a massacre,” he choked out, not recognizing the gravelly sound of his voice. “That’s when I knew I had to get out before my heart turned completely to stone. I couldn’t be a soulless weapon. I couldn’t just fire at whatever target my superiors placed in front of me without asking questions or considering consequences. So when Matthew Hanger invited me to join him and the others, to leave the ranks of the military and put our skills to work helping ordinary folks, I didn’t hesitate. I’d worked with Captain Hanger on several special assignments through the years. Knew him to be a good man. A godly man. The kind of man who could help me reclaim the missing pieces of my soul before they were gone forever.”

Although sometimes he wondered if he’d ever feel whole again. Even with as much as he and the Horsemen had done to right wrongs over the last few years, Jonah still saw battlefields in his dreams. Heard the cries of the wounded. Smelled blood and gunpowder. Saw each man who fell to one of his bullets.

“We took a vow against using lethal force,” he said, “and swore only to use our weapons to defend the innocent against injustice.”

He fell silent. Stood still in the night air. Breathing. Listening to Eliza breathing beside him. He hated exposing his bloodstained underbelly to her, but she needed to know the truth.

So, with a clench of his jaw, he made himself finish it. “Even with all the good we’ve done, my soul will always be scarred. Pieces will always be missing.”

Finally, he pivoted to look at her. Tears glistened in her eyes, but he saw no anger, no horror. His heart throbbed with hope.

“Every day, I pray for the Lord to do in me what he promised to do for the house of Israel in the days of Ezekiel. To sprinkle clean water on me and cleanse me from my filthiness, to take away my stony heart and give me one of flesh. But until I came here,” he said as his eyes caressed her face, “I hadn’t realized how much flesh the Lord had already restored.”

He pushed away from the fence and moved to stand directly in front of her. He yearned to reach for her, to stroke her cheek, to slide his fingers along her neck and take her face in his hand, to press a gentle kiss to her lips. But he did nothing. Just drank her in with his eyes.

“When I look at you, Eliza, I feel. More than I’ve felt in a long, long time. So I’m putting you on notice.” He targeted a look at her that an officer would pin on a new recruit. No softness. No sugarcoating. Just the truth, shot straight and true with no frills to throw off the aim. “After Wallace and I find those missing kids and put things to rights, I’ll be askin’ permission to come courtin’. I ain’t asking yet,” he blurted when her mouth started to move. He held up a hand to halt whatever she meant to say. “The things I done told ya tonight need time to soak in before you answer. Lord knows you deserve a better man than me, and if you decide not to accept my suit, I’ll have nothin’ but respect for your wisdom in not saddling yourself with a banged-up old war dog.”

Without conscious thought, the hand he’d held up to stop her from speaking found its way to her cheek. The backs of his knuckles stroked the side of her face, and the feel of her satiny skin on his fingers was the sweetest torture he’d ever known.

Her gaze locked on his, her eyes piercing in their intensity. Jonah’s hand stilled. “But if you feel something when you look at me, the way I do when I look at you, and you’re willing to explore what those feelings might mean despite everything you’ve heard tonight, then perhaps we can have more of these moonlit conversations and see where they lead.”

Her breath caught at his caress. Jonah yanked his hand away from her face before he did something stupid like pull her against him and kiss her until the stars twinkled in full brightness overhead. With a sharp pivot, he strode away from her and did what snipers did best—watched his quarry from a distance as she slowly made her way back to the house.